Cerulean
by Naaer- inactive
Summary: The Doctor's only constant companion always had a hand in things, didn't she?  Part of the Colours series.  COMPLETE
1. Harmonic Eternal

**A/N: Lo and behold...I have started a series. It shalt be called the Colours Series. This is the first one. Hope you like, will be updated shortly. xx**

Prologue- Harmonic Eternal

_She had seen so many of the little ones come and go. They would step inside, and some would go mad with the sheer knowledge of what could be. Some would be terrified, their minds quaking. And of course, there would be ones with darker intentions, the ones who clearly showed the human traits her Beloved was most loath of._

_And then there were the special ones. Brimming with the thirst to learn, eyes set a-sparkling. Yes, they were often full of naivety, but her Beloved knew he could take that raw potential and fashion it into something greater. With just a single trip._

_It didn't always go to plan. Some fell in love, and they chose to leave lest their hearts break any more. The darker ones, they were caught out of line by both her and her Beloved, and forced to leave. Souls like that didn't do him justice. They clawed at his own soul, wearing it more._

_Each were unique in their own way, traipsing through her winding corridors, unlocking secrets -some forbidden- and leaving imprints on her Beloved._

_And, then, one day, there came a little one that was the rarest jewel. Not many of those came aboard her._

_And when both the Storm and the little Wolf were hurting, the TARDIS took it in herself to find a way._

** ...  
**


	2. Interference

**A/N: About that mini-hiatus that occurred with this...There'll be probably be much more of those in the new year, sadly. :( But, better late than never, no? Anyways, here you are. Inspired slightly by another fic I cannot for the life of me remember the name of now...  
Oh yeah. Implied character death here. Please don't kill me D: *posts and runs* **

"Please don't let him find me."

The words came out as a raw whisper, the syllables still hanging in the air as she pressed a hand to one of the roundel-laden walls. The TARDIS hummed and Rose felt her quizzically breach her already weary mind, seeking for the source of her distress. Her alarm came as a consoling burble, then a series of oddly soothing chimes, before the door opened.

Her sanctuary.

Rose herself had always been a strange limbo regarding her relationship with the Doctor's mysterious ship. She had figured that thay both had a relationship that differed from the norm, but then again she wasn't one to assume the TARDIS didn't bond like this with other companions. And yet. Times like these said otherwise. When she laughed, she felt the time vessel's walls warm, her voice -more like a humming than anything- a bubbling outpouring of, well, _joy. _

When she consoled, and felt sadness for the Doctor, the TARDIS embraced both their minds soothingly.

When she herself -alone- was sad, she was aware of the TARDIS darkening in despair. And that meant she had to be watchful of her emotions around the Doctor, because, unbeknown to him, his ship was a powerful receptor to anything she thought, or felt. The former stung Rose a bit. As much a telepathy was something humans in general were in awe of...there were times when she didn't need it.

But, today, she needed to be away from him. This was, oddly, one of the consequences of it being just the two of them. Partners in Time. The Dynamic Duo- no. She mentally grimaced at that. Even that was a bit too cliche for the likes of them.

And the TARDIS seemed to fill in as a motherly figure. To her, anyway.

The room glowed softly with emerald light, a mixture of lavender and some other unidentifiable scent assaulting her nose. The door clicked into place and she turned around to see its outlines merge into the blue sheen of the walls until it gone before her eyes.

Almost unconsciously she reached up to the nearest available bit of free wall and stroked it. A flood of warmth and - could it be, _love?_- washed over her mind as she did so, and Rose instantly snatched her hand away. God, she was becoming like him in more ways than she thought...

Despite the TARDIS' efforts to calm her, she could feel unbridled anger roiling away inside her. And, yes, this time it was directed at him with full force. The sheer weight of it fell upon her, chokingly, as though winding her, and she slumped down onto the plush sliver-lined window seat.

She could only watch as her little Wolf was torn with a shocking anger at her Beloved, and mounting grief. She stroked her mind, but, alas, Rose was too caught up in her painful musings to even register the brush of warmth. The TARDIS, well, she understood the situation, and she didn't. She was sentient, and capable of emotion to some extent, but the little ones puzzled her sometimes with their complex emotions and odd thoughts and ways.

They had been happy, her Beloved and the little Wolf. She had taken them, her ancient engines groaning, to that queer little space station. She wondered why he had come here. She had sensed from the start that trouble and mishaps were bound to happen.  
After a period, her little Wolf had come back into her walls, her mind crying with upset and frustration and utter distress. _Such emotion._

_He left me._ Her little one kept saying that, in whispers varying from angry to distraught. Then came the mutterings, soft and fragile at first, then fiery and laced with powerful expletives. The fact that they were actually _directed_ at her Beloved confused her to no end.

_Why this anger?_

Rose suddenly halted in her tumultuous inner angering, stilling as -

A soft chiming, that emanated something akin to deep concern. In her head?

She shuddered as quizzical warmth rushed over her. Then felt a soft poking, a nagging, at the corners of her mind. She blinked. It felt far too intrusive, clawing at her, wanting in.

_Go away!_

She dimly registered some faint hurt that wasn't her own, but was too tangled up in her hurt to probe further.

Her soft weeping degenerated into silent, heaving sobs that making breathing difficult. Desperately she tried to gain some semblance of control over it. _Breath. Remember to breath. Inhale. Exhale_

Nothing. The inky darkness of despair clouded around her, swallowing her whole. Her chest felt tight, breath erratic and heart thundering beyond all reason as her world started to go faint. There was a faint echo of a single, lone wolf's howl, and then nothing.

* * *

Something was wrong. The Doctor stilled in his work, sprawled under the console. The air around him suddenly become cold and...dead. He could've even sworn that the TARDIS' lights dimmed a little. Alarm slashed through him, causing him to sit up abruptly -and knocking his head on the sharp coral-metal underbelly.

"Ow..." he whined, hissing as he probed the tender spot. Rassilon...you'd think he would've learned not sit up like that after all these years. Rose mocked him enough for it and -

Speaking of..where was she? All had been eerily silent as their normal routine has resumed, after the events of the S.S -

He still couldn't say it. He was _hurting_. And he'd gathered that she knew, judging by his 'I'm always alright' quip and her soft features brimming with concern. She'd wanted to help. And he'd pushed away all help. Had shut her out. Again.

Guilt seeped in rapidly, the intensity of it making him feel light-headed, and gripping the nearest bit of console to steady himself. The TARDIS sensed his distress and burbled softly, poking at his mind.

He ignored her, pulling himself to his weary feet, grimacing at the helmic regulator oil that blackened his finger tips.

Half-heartedly, he patted the console. "There you go, old girl. Seems you're getting on in your years." Her response was an indignant grumble. The Doctor chuckled.

"Well, I'm no spring chicken myself..."

He winced at the sudden onslaught in his mind as his beloved ship hurled angered stabs at him.

"Hey, old girl. What's this for?" His tone was slightly admonishing, as he stroked the side panel soothingly.

Well. Tried to would be more astute. He yelped at a bolt of electricity connected with his skin.

"Right. Ok. Fine, you wanna be that way?" There was just the slightest oncoming pout, but the TARDIS was relentless. _He always did this. Hiding from the truth. A non-stop rambling idiot. Just who do you think you are, pretty boy?_

"W-Who's there?" Naught but blackness.

_Wouldn't you like to know. _The slightest glimpse of a figure, stocky yet lean. The harsh smell of leather and time and space invading his nostrils.

_Where's Rose?_

"Uh- I-"

_Just had to go and ruin things, didn't you? All talk and no action. Just who are you, to flounce off with the nearest piece of skirt? Oh, I get it. You're like a typical dog. See a lamppost, piss on it, go on to the next.._

The Doctor mind screamed in utter anguish and confusion. _What was this?_

_What is this? This is the price of failure._

He could see a cloud, emanating hell, looming above him. Tendrils reaching out towards him, snaking around his arms and legs like binds. Latching onto his face, forcing their way into his mouth, up his nose, choking him. He could taste the dry, acrid tang of Death.

A golden haze shimmered nearby, in an invisible tug-of-war with the black cloud, now hovering around his spread-eagled body like a vulture.

It just wasn't strong enough.

He tried to cry out, but all that came out was a silent distraught scream. And, as if the situation wasn't confusing and _terrifying_ enough, his breath came short, hearts racing, trying to outrun one another. Then. One stopped sharply, and his other began to follow suit, slowing.

He was wracked with pain and grief and utter _helplessness _and his breath came in unhealthy short, sharp gasps. His life-force draining away, he stumbled about in the darkness, groping and grasping for purchase on something -_anything._

His fingertips painfully grated against cool, rough coral; hoisting himself up, he collapsed against what he desperately hoped was the console, too weak to even feel the pain anymore.

"Emergency...defillibration.." It came as a harsh croak as his life drained away, eyes rolling back in his head, breath coming in even shorter pants, now ringing with the nasty rattle of death.

And then he waited. Somehow mustered enough energy to count down.

_Five..._

_Four..._

_Three... _

_Two..._

_One..._

_Rose._

Electricity coursed through him.

And then his world fell silent.

**...**

**A/N...*whispers* Review please. And don't hate me for leaving this at a cliff-hanger, please. It's the first one I've done in ages. Kthnxbai.**


	3. Epiphany

Oh, and I forgot to mention in the previous chapter that this is set directly after the events of GitF, for those who are a tad confused...

* * *

"Oh...my head..."

The blue-green lights of the TARDIS seemed sickly and oddly bright as he came to, throat raw and drier than the Sahara. Making any sudden moves was definitely a bad idea, the Doctor decided, his head spinning as he made a pitiful attempt to get to his feet. The dimly lit underbelly of the console glowered at him in the semi-darkness, his ship now humming unpleasantly in his mind, rising gradually in pitch.

"Alright, you've had your fun, now stop it, " he grumbled tersely, trying not to look or feel so alarmed at her protest, another harsh spitting of fiery sparks in his general direction. Dusting his palms down on his knees, he tried and succeeded with getting to his feet, wincing as his bruised bones protested violently against the sudden movement.

"Right..." Ignoring the stabbing pain in his right arm, he flicked a few switches, assessing the damage onscreen. His gaze flitted dismissively over the mess of the console surface, surveying the damage, before a few clicks and beeps turned his gaze back. His eyes widened as he quickly skimmed over the statistics.  
She'd blown one of her own circuits just to get his attention! He seriously toyed with the idea of taking the mallet to her for that alone, never mind the many more hours he would be doing repair work. And _that_ meant Rose would been even more unimpressed. Again.

As sudden thought stalled. Wait. How could he be so hard-headed, so stupid? After all...why had his hearts just given out? An tingle of foreboding stole over him and he shifted uncomfortably. For now, the not-quite-appareance of his former self was but a hallucination. He'd had a rough day and his mind was simply and slowly faltering under the burgeoning stress.

He'd nearly lost her. In the actual, could-have-been-stranded-in-pre-Revolutionary-France kinda way, and that other nagging way he couldn't quite admit yet.

He could damn well tell that she was hurting. He wasn't _that_ oblivious. Had seen the concern welling up earlier on, just as he'd hidden that letter out of sight, and plastered that jovial mask on yet again. Of course he was fine.

(_Liar_).

But she could read him like a book now, because he'd let her in, allowed he to heal this damaged soul. And that terrified him, so he'd backtracked, just wanting to go and lick his wounds. _Couldn't she see that he was hurting?_

And... what had that achieved? Naught but a broken heart.

The Doctor went rigid, remembering with more clarity what had happened. He could feel that naggin in his mind again. Something was still...not quite right. He could feel it in his gut. Like a shroud of death settling over them, the air becoming stale and-

"No. Oh, no, no, no, _no.."_ He turned on his heels and sprinted into the depths of the TARDIS, hearts thudding in panic, straining to reach her door. Even as he skidded to a halt in front of her door, unease filled him.

He took a tentative step forward -noticed that it was open- and gingerly pushed it open.

He only hoped he wasn't too late.

* * *

...Heh.


	4. Manifestation

A/N: Woo, exams are over ...for now...

And, yay, last chapter. Didn't like this one too much; language sort of ran away from me and went a bit flowery...

* * *

Her room was dimly lit, the air tepid. It would be downright silly to assume anything yet, not in this light. Although...

He took one or two steps forward onto the plush carpeting, quieting his own breathing, listening for the one thing that would confirm his wish.

Nothing.

The Doctor's breath hitched as he tried to calm his pulse, panic nearly ripping him to shreds. Willing himself not to lose his sanity as he padded forward.

_One step forward. _Breath, hitching in his throat, as he strained his ears for something, _anything. Two steps back_.

The darkness taunted him with its black, gaping maw, the beast of his own soul.

His fingers twitched in a need to flick them at the gloom. _Out, vile spirit. Get thee hence._

He shook his head as a dog ridding its of pesky flies does, the ghastly death rattle of his own not a few hours ago ringing in his ears, tugging at his nerves.

His knee met the frame of her bed. (apparently not so superior physiology then...)

He looked down, squinting in the half-light - wait- the half-light that was now steadily brightening. Just a little.

His hearts nearly stopped at what he saw. Eyes widening, the whites a vast sea.

She lay there in the choking ocean of covers, the epitome of Death itself. Skin paler than milk, lips tinged blue-purple.

The Doctor had seen so much death over the long book of his life - but it didn't make it any easier to see it. Not at all.

He wanted to rant, rave, _scream._ His entire world, his reason for living lay motionless before him and -

Yet...he couldn't. For an incarnation who never shut up...he was speechless. Emotion had stolen his tongue.

Knees harshly met the floor, the pain dim, barely registering.

He felt..._numb_.

Reached out a hand. Some part of him thought he could save her.

His movements were listless, with no vigour, no energy_. Why would he feel that anyway? _As though in slow motion, and then-

His fingertips, repelled by some force. They sent of golden ripples that spun off into the distant ether. He pressed again, the surface energy sending a pleasant buzz through him. Shaking it off, feeling rather guilty at briefly enjoying it, he touched the invisible force field again, with rising panic and frustration.  
The _least_ he could do was take Rose home to her mother- and endure the very depths of Hell and the slaps that came with it and -no. He winced at the very thought. He would give her a proper, traditional cremation, on the forests edge of Moonshine. He would whisper a solemn eulogy, garbled in his native tongue. And then when she was reduced to naught but ashes, he would-

_Cry._

He didn't even register the lone tear that ran its lonely course down his cheek.

_Emhallon..._

She only used _that_ when...well...like the last time she sang when Gallifrey burned as he fled across the stars.

Something unspeakably powerful irradiated from the barrier, make the hairs on his hands and nape quiver.

_The Wolf Child shall not be harmed._

The Doctor _just_ about suppressed a derisive snort. He felt utter apathy now. How could his TARDIS help now, of all things. The most powerful time machine was, ironically, too late. Like him.

He could feel her trying to repel him -and from the room itself. He bridled; tried to speak, and then-

The TARDIS chimed, and he watched as gold tendrils began to seep from under the bed, unraveling and curling, slipping gracefully through the air to wrap around his now dead companion's prone figure.

His ship, in all her majesty- although he thought she was just showing off, really- burbled and chirped, but it hurt his mind. The only thing he picked up out of the haze was...

_No._

"Oh, no. No, you can't do this. I'm telling you now, you _can't_. Even _I_ wouldn't, and- " She silenced him with a single echoing chime.

The barrier was reverberating with gold and sheer time and space and _power _and was thickening with every second.

His breath caught again, hearts choking his windpipe. He fell to his knees, defeated.

The TARDIS played to win. And she had won.

The room seem to implode with gold and then he was still once more.

* * *

Her skin was pale ice beneath his fingertips as he pressed two of them to the column of her throat. It fluttered weakly, yet with a vivacious promise of life, but not, seeming regular then jumping off the mark. A hummingbird caught in his grasp.  
His gaze turned briefly to the IV bag beside her bed. It traced the path of the rubber tubing down to her left arm, where the glint of a needle disappeares beneath the pallid skin, and the steady, repetitive drip of the precious saline solution is only a reminder of what he'd nearly lost.

As he remembers, the inky darkness howls and claws at his soul, making it that little more blackened, the edges that a little more ragged and worn.

He doesn't really know what to think anymore. Did he, honestly, do the right thing? Really and truly.

But, when it was _his_ own happiness, _his_ love interests...Didn't he have a choice? Even when it nearly ended them both?

A heavy sigh left him. He was there to catch her, but only this time. Her skin has been buzzing with heat and the entity that now watched over her.

There was also a faint golden thread connecting their mind. He could feel her, curled up in the back of his mind, sleeping peacefully, lazy as a kitten.  
And yet some aura of herown soul -gold and a light pink- was bruised and tarnished. He could feel her hurt, and it clashed with his, masking it, make guilt fill him.

What had he _done_?

His former self was right, he thought bitterly. It was because of him that she nearly _died. (Well, she sort of did, but that was beside the point)_

And so had he. The glazed eyes, the signs of cardiac arrest...It haunted him. He died, inside, the moment she shunned him. And for good reasoning too.

_Coward._

His eyes slammed shut as angry tears threatened to fall; elbows slumped lopsidely on his knees as he crumpled into a small ball of doubt on the carpeted floor.

There was no telling how long he wept for. All he knew was that a thousand emotions all came out at once. He wept for his sins, his foolishness, his callousness. He wept for his own loss, too burdened with survivour's guilt. He wept for Gallifrey, his family, his children that were no more. Just nothing. Dust and ashes.

A hand, smaller than his own and warm against his curved back finally brought him to his senses. Along with a single word:

"Doctor..." And then he wept as the sound of his companion's voice, whipping around and hauling her into him -catheter and equipment be damned- with a ferocity that troubled her.

He was clinging to her like a pice of lifesaving apparatus rescuing him from a swirling sea, dampening her- or rather, his- shirt with his sorrow.

His startled companion could only hold him as he _sobbed_ on her right shoulder, nearly crushing her with his obvious grief. Bewildered beyong comparison...and she'd never know why.

Because, after that day, something seemed to have stolen the Doctor's voice.

* * *

Yes, 'tis the end. I'm ashamed that just this one took so long...but I already have the next colour written [mostly], and will hopefully be posted at the weekend. It's called Obsidian. Look out for it :)


End file.
